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I
sit calmly
as I listen to the
Spanish guitars.
My
hand holds
a cut crystal glass
three quarters full
of Burgundy wine.
I
watch as
my arm uncurls
and hurls
the glass
against the wall behind me.
I
do not turn to see it hit,
But I hear the
satisfying shatter
and I see the crimson splatter.
Quietly
I get up
and leave the table.
I turn to see the glass,
still mostly full
sitting where I left it.
I
politely pay the bill,
smiling at the hostess
as I calmly leave
the restaurant.
And
I feel
the bow string tighten.
By
Suli Marr
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